


midori sour

by 道 (daoxmu)



Category: Persona 5
Genre: Exhibitionism, F/F, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Public Sex, Vaginal Fingering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-20
Updated: 2019-11-20
Packaged: 2021-02-13 15:13:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,206
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21496339
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/daoxmu/pseuds/%E9%81%93
Summary: Akechi voice: I dont covet a fucking thing my guy.
Relationships: Akechi Goro/Amamiya Ren, Akechi Goro/Kurusu Akira, Akechi Goro/Persona 5 Protagonist
Comments: 1
Kudos: 67





	midori sour

**Author's Note:**

> This akechi has difficult first name feelings. What does that mean?? I wonder ~

Sloven.

Akechi stares at the barista’s ratty shorts hanging dangerously low off a sharp hip bone.

There must be a dozen health code violations taking place, and that’s a conservative estimate. Had the keeper of the palace been here the barista wouldn’t hear the end of it.

“Ah.”

Ren emits the teeniest of sounds as her equally ratty shirt slips over the smooth bulb of her shoulder. It takes some finagling around her apron to get her shirt back in order. If she were anything but the most experienced of Ren watchers Akechi would lose her sounds in the loud clacking of sandals on tile floor.

It has her peckish for something she can’t name.

Akechi sips her coffee. Her breath scalds her insides. Idly she wonders if dragons can burn by their own flame. If they ever wander too close to the fire in their zeal to defend their treasure.

Sip.

Akechi is not being overzealous.

A jangle comes from the door opening and for a second Akechi sees red. If memory serves the sign on the door states Leblanc isn’t operating today.

“Ren dear,” greets one of Yongen-Jaya’s vast elderly population.

“Morning auntie,” Ren greets in turn, flashing a smile capable of shaming the sun into setting. 

Acid churns in her throat, licking the back of her sternum, roiling in her diaphragm. Akechi douses it with more coffee. The coffee doesn’t function as intended.

“Haven’t seen you by the shop lately.”

Ren laughs sweetly. It’s sweeter when it’s just the two of them.

“Not feelin’ the new stuff,” Ren offers easily. 

The old woman hums knowingly, it sounds like stones grinding.

“What about old stuff? 

“Eh?” Ren goes wide-eyed, her shoulders jump and she has to adjust her shirt and apron. Again. “Gosh that’d be mighty decent but…”

_Don’t._

“Seems like a hassle.”

“Nothing’s a hassle after you chased out that redevelopment project.”

Ren groans. “I told ya that wasn’t me.” 

“‘Course it wasn’t,” the old woman winks. “So is there anything you want to see?”

The half second Ren pauses seems more courtesy than anything else. In the other half of the second Akechi finds herself with faceful of Ren and deliberately blank face that foreshadows disaster.

“Oi Goro what’s good?” Ren monotones before turning back to the proprietor of the local cinema. “Goro’s a real cinephile,” she says sagely.

“Oh? That’s rare for young people.”

“Just a hobbyist,” Akechi coughs. She can’t remember the last film she watched start to finish. While she may not be the cinephile Ren purports her to be she _does_ have a knack for giving the right answers.

She rattles off some title or another that seems to appease the old woman. It’s not long before she’s hobbling out the door, not before Ren offers her a drink at least fifty times.

“Aren’t you loved,” Akechi mutters when the door jangles shut.

“Huh?”

“You’re in the business of chasing off gentrifiers then?” Akechi stares at the sign on the door, the part facing her reads ‘closed’.

Ren briefly looks her in the eye then glances at the empty mug. 

“I’m good thanks.” Akechi says abruptly, putting her hand over the mug before Ren can pour. The tone of her voice even shocks her a bit. She didn’t mean it like…

Before she can dwell on it further Ren hangs her apron then heads upstairs. She’s louder on the way down than she was going up which has Akechi leaping up from her seat. In the middle of the staircase she finds Ren hauling down her makeshift laundry hamper, a large reusable shopping bag.

They’ve been calling it a makeshift hamper for months now. Even including all her sheets and some of Akechi’s clothes the hamper barely weighs anything. Akechi takes the load off her anyway.

“You’re going out in your pyjamas then?” Akechi asks, watching Ren kick off her indoor slippers for outdoor slippers. 

Ren tilts her head. “We’re just crossing the street.”

While calling the path between Leblanc and the coin-op a street is generous, that’s not the issue at hand.

“You’re…” Akechi starts before she has to swallow. A sunbeam catches Ren’s legs, highlighting leg hair and dust sticking to body lotion and 

“...Awfully comfortable,” she finishes. Despite having just swallowed, it still feels like there’s a frog in her throat.

“No one cares out here.” Ren shrugs. 

Somehow she isn’t convinced.

“What. Twenty minutes on the train and you’re gettin’ culture shock?”

Even the force of Ren’s gentle teasing is enough to jostle her sleeve down her shoulder. Akechi sets the hamper aside and tugs it back up.

“Perhaps,” she murmurs, trailing her hand from Ren’s shoulder down her side and coming to a stop at her shorts. She’s not wearing a bra. Again.

“Really?”

It won’t do much good, especially as the biggest threat to Ren’s decency is Ren herself. Akechi does up the drawstrings on her shorts anyway. 

“Perhaps.”

It takes Akechi all of a few seconds to reach the coin-op. It takes less than that for another denizen of the neighbourhood to accost Ren.

Setting the bag down she leaves the coin-op to look for Ren. It doesn’t take long, Yongen-Jaya is small and looking left she spots a familiar figure at the recycle shop.

“You’ll get her back soon,” the lady in the recycle shop announces when she walks in. “She’s doing a little handiwork for me.”

“I see,” she says, trailing off when she sees Ren crouched before the tv. 

Akechi can’t help laying her palm at the back of Ren’s neck, squeezing when Ren’s shoulders jump at the contact. A chortle comes from beside her and she retracts her hand immediately.

“And done.” Ren stands up from the tv.

“Now aren’t you a peach,” the recycle shop lady cooes then rummages about a bag next to her chair and hands them a sweet each.

“It’s so nice to have friends,” the old woman smiles and waves. “You girls have fun.”

Akechi steadfastly ignores the brambles and ivy the sentiment nourishes. 

When they get back to the coin-op she gives her candy to Ren. Loading the wash is easy enough, leaving them with about fifty minutes to wait. Usually she’d rehash some old hat about getting Ren to set a timer so they don’t have to babysit the wash, for argument’s sake.

But the peckishness from earlier makes itself known, it insists it won’t be ignored. Akechi swallows a whole lot of nothing, it goes down like a fistful of sand.

As the spinning laundry monopolises Ren’s attention. Akechi can’t help thinking about how Ren’s attention would be better served elsewhere. Elsewhere like

Ren’s lips feel a bit rough, like she had neglected moisturising them until she had company to entertain. It’s flattering that Ren is compelled to impress her.

Thumbs slot into perfectly-shaped divets in bony hips, before they sidle up higher, and higher, and 

Saying she’d been caught would imply she was being evasive. A hand as chapped as Ren’s lips grips her wrist, it doesn’t push or pull. Save for their breathing, and she’s dubious that Ren’s even doing that much, everything stills.

It’s the time of day where bright sun casts longer shadows. Even under the stark lighting Ren’s ever blank face reveals nothing. The most she gets is a tilt of her head and a deep sigh.

Akechi shoves her hand to no avail.

“No?” Akechi asks quietly.

A ripple of some emotion shows through Ren’s placid facade. Her lips pout, lashes hang half-mast.

“Not…”

Akechi’s breath hitches.

“Not no.” Then she states the obvious. “We’re outside.”

Akechi snorts. “I doubt anyone here is of the evening show watching demographic.”

“That’s not-”

She would be hard pressed to remember anything Ren said after affirming her consent. So she makes it easier for them both, by shushing Ren with her lips.

For a while Ren goes along but Akechi knows better, knows what honest complacency is. Knows that it isn’t second delayed reactions and trembling palpable down to her fingertips.

Hefting Ren up she drops her on the washer beside them with a loud metallic warble then settles between her legs.

“Not no?” Akechi repeats.

“It’s just…”

As she trails off Akechi spots it, the nervous glances at something to Akechi’s left. 

“There’s no one there.”

“Yeah but.” Ren looks away, voice dropping to a whisper. “It’s weird!”

Akechi looks at the empty cafe. Once upon a time she would have cared, but not this occasion. Looking back at Ren she hardens her gaze.

“I decide what’s weird.”

“‘Course ya do,” Ren says wearily.

That didn’t go as planned. She claps a hand over Ren’s eyes. “Don’t look then.”

She takes in a greedy armful of Ren, greedy breaths against her neck and for a moment it all seems too quick. Until gentle hands find purchase on her shoulder blades and Akechi tries to, tries to. 

Tries to be less XXX and more OOO. Once upon a time she could have, would have. Maybe.

Shoving both hands up Ren’s shirt they rest on her ribs while her head rests on Ren’s sternum. Soft legs hug her waist tight which sets her off all over again. The ridges of Ren’s ribs feel like the edges of tricky rocks on a difficult climbing wall. Her nails yearn to dig in and go _higher_.

“Goro,” Ren purrs. Akechi feels the sound more than hears it. All the Ren she feels feeds into this endless fount of

Akechi presses her lips against the hollow of Ren’s throat, runs her teeth over pronounced clavicles before latching on. 

She barely catches the sound Ren makes over the roar of her blood.

Calloused but gentle hands, fresh-cut nails still scratchy. One cups her jaw, the other combs Akechi’s sweaty mane away from her eyes.

The face Ren makes has Akechi wondering about her own expression. Not for long, not when she wants, she wants, she wants-

A loud squeal of wood on hinges rings disturbingly close by. Something moves in her periphery and Akechi immediately ducks, sitting in the plastic chair by the machines and leaning back against them.

She picks up the sounds of civil if loud discourse, a band of neighbourlies leaving the bath house.

“Oh, Ren!” One of them calls out.

Akechi mutters a curse.

A normal person probably would have scooted away from Akechi before jumping off the machine and turning around. Ren is not a normal person.

Akechi splutters upon suddenly having a faceful of Ren’s navel.

“Hi aunties,” Ren says cordially, if a little breathless.

Her earlier peckishness is a hollow echo of the ravenous monstrous want compelling her insides to auto-cannibalise in their hunger.

She doesn’t want them to be here, doesn’t want Ren to be distracted. Akechi has spent too long doing things she doesn’t want and not doing things she wants. And she wants...

Her teeth itch.

Breathing in deep and exhaling slow, her breath becomes slightly disjointed upon feeling Ren’s stomach twitch against her nose and lips.

“This looks suspect,” Akechi whispers against Ren, aspirating her consonants to tickle Ren.

Ren leans harder on her face. Akechi is familiar with the old aphorism that says not to attribute to malice that which can be chalked up to ignorance, but Akechi is also familiar with Ren.

“There’s no door.”

For all her warnings Akechi gets Ren’s shirt tugged over the back of her head. All while Ren continues entertaining the bath house interlopers while… whatever this farce is continues.

“So,” one of the interlopers says in a smug voice that promises nothing good. “You’ve got the place to yourself this weekend.”

Akechi licks her stomach.

“Ah!” 

“Everything alright dear? You look a little pink.”

Akechi smirks against Ren’s soft stomach and drags her teeth along the little pouch of fat situated there.

“Don’t worry about me.” 

Ren sounds out of breath and her voice adopts a slight tremble that can’t be reassuring anyone. Before Ren can back away Akechi grabs the backs of her legs and holds her against her face.

“Haven’t got the boyfriend coming over? We won’t tell Sojiro, promise.”

When Ren answers it’s quiet, but clear.

“I don’t like boys.”

Akechi grins at that. She kisses Ren over her shorts, nipping at her when she begins to swell. Nosing aside the crotch of her shorts she comes face to face with Ren’s past, present, and future.

…

Ren is _entirely_ too comfortable in this neighbourhood.

But Akechi can forgive this slight, just this once. She peppers teasing non-bites on her outer lips, inner lips, just a little one on her hood.

“Look at her blush!” one of the crowd squeals.

“Such a good girl,” another laughs, “I’m sure you’ll come around. Maybe when you’re older.”

Akechi snickers derisively. “Is that right?” she mutters against Ren’s intimacy before taking her into her mouth. The weight of Ren’s thighs crushing her neck is heavy, Akechi holds her legs closer.

“Oh my, the sweet creature has to cover her face.” Another round of laughter. “Don’t worry Ren I’ll get this old devil to leave you alone.”

The moment they’re out of earshot Ren yanks her to her feet and Akechi knows how she must look. She knows her hair must be sticking every which way, some strands in her mouth, clinging to the sweat on her cheeks. She shoots Ren a lopsided grin.

It’s all Akechi can do to not cackle aloud seeing Ren. Gone is the restless fidgeting, worries unspoken, and nervous glances. Leaving behind an emotion much more base. Dark clouds hover over stormy eyes, a faint crease marrs the the top of her cheeks and the line of her lips.

A familiar feeling.

Spindly fingers clutch her shoulders, digging in like they seek to go under her blades and wrench her open. Akechi lets herself be tugged in, stopping short of kissing Ren. 

“What’s wrong? Not a good girl?” Akechi kisses her. “Not a good girl who doesn’t like boys?” she drawls then sticks her hand up Ren’s shorts. “Who wouldn’t dare leave the house pantsless?”

She spreads Ren open, relishing in the muted squish it makes that no one hears but her. Only her. Akechi tilts her head, admiring how soft Ren’s mouth looks hanging open. 

“Who wouldn’t be creaming herself over the detective prince right now?” Akechi whispers. “What does that make you-mmf!”

Suddenly Ren’s palms catch her face, her mouth.

“You’re the detective, figure it out,” Ren deadpans, albeit too flushed to feign complete nonchalance. “And if you’re gonna masturbate do it at home.” 

Akechi can’t decide whether to clutch metaphorical pearls or laugh, she laughs and Ren frees her face. 

“Sorry,” she manages through the laughter.

“Only apologise if you’re gonna mean it.”

“Sorry,” Akechi repeats, unimpeded. “How can I make it up to you?” 

Ren hugs her neck and tugs her in, breath hot on her ear.

“Goro.” 

Akechi swallows roughly and tries not to collapse thinking about how Ren is the cutest girl in the world when she says her name like that. ‘Like that’ being every time Ren says her name. 

“Yes?”

No response, not a verbal one at least. Ren hugs her close and wiggles her hips. Ah.

“Get on the washer.”

The look Ren gives to the empty row of washers then to her seems more confusion than nerves. Akechi clears her throat.

“I said get on the fucking washer Amamiya.”

Ren hefts herself onto the machine with Akechi following right after. Pushing her down until she’s laying across the washers with one leg hanging off the edge.

Idly, more of an afterthought than anything, Akechi cups her through her shorts and bites her lip at the resulting moan.

Ren’s warm to the touch and so, _so_ eager. Her legs open a little wider, she moans a little louder. She’s pliant in how she yields the second Akechi thinks of touching her. A boundless pliancy as Ren brookers no protest to her flimsy shirt being pushed up to her neck. So Akechi pushes harder. Pinning Ren’s knees to her chest, nearly dropping them in shock when she tugs at her shorts and Ren lifts her hips aiding in her own debauchment.

Setting her shorts aside Akechi takes a moment to regard her paramour. Soaked in sun, eyelashes fluttering, and-

Akechi’s mouth waters seeing Ren’s cunt, swollen, wet, and open from her attention. 

“Goro.” Ren prods, in voice and how her leg curls around Akechi.

Unfair. Gorgeous. Akechi groans then turns, kneeling on one leg and bracing the other on the chair next to the machine. It’s murder on her knees but that never mattered, not when

Ren heralds Akechi’s fingers taking root with cry so loud and sweet Akechi feels her yearning bone deep. She can’t think of a more heinous sin than leaving Ren wanting.

“I’ve got you,” Akechi grunts through ragged breaths. Initially she hasn’t the focus to do much other than spread and curl her fingers, just to get a feel. Slowly she pulls herself together. She puts her forearm into it, her elbow, her shoulder. Thrusting with enough enthusiasm to jostle Ren on the counter no matter how Ren clings to her. 

Cradling Ren’s shoulders with her right arm she uses the chair to leverage her whole body in driving her fingers into Ren. The movement also allows Akechi to find reprieve in grinding against the surface.

Anyone, _anyone_, could walk past and discover their precious neighbourhood flower on her back, legs spread being defiled by

Akechi throbs against the counter. She descends on Ren, rasping harshly against her neck. And it’s rash, ill-conceived, but her mouth aches and her teeth itch. And maybe, just maybe, she did have a hard-on for antagonising Ren.

Sinking her teeth high into the soft fleshy side of Ren’s throat Akechi doesn’t miss how Ren squeezes around her and grins. “Sing for me,” she growls against Ren’s throat, words lacking her usual precise diction.

“Shut up!” It comes out as a whine, it comes out in Ren bearing down hard on her hand, in pulling Akechi in with a renewed vice grip on her shoulders. It comes it comes it cu-

Fire tears up her back under Ren’s fresh-trimmed unfiled claws leave raised trails on her skin. And this once, just this once she’ll be selfish. Throwing a leg over Ren so she straddles Ren’s leg, Akechi drops her hips and mimics the motion formerly carried out by her fingers. 

Gentle fingers - hilariously gentle considering they just tore her back open - grab her hips, abetting Akechi in finding completion against Ren’s leg.

“Goro, cum.”

Akechi buries her face in Ren’s chest as her hips writhe and shudder against Ren’s leg and Ren, _Ren, Ren-_

When her senses return, when she can pick up the yellows of the coin-op, the sounds of clothes tumbling in the wash and it doesn’t feel like it’ll take ten years for her to regain her breath, Akechi takes stock of the situation. Mostly the awful mess she’s made of Ren and her hand.

Idly, more of an afterthought than anything, Akechi wipes her fingers on Ren’s stomach. Which gets her a shout and knee to somewhere dangerous.


End file.
